


What Part of Forever

by AnnaNocturnal



Series: Requests and Challenges [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aggression, Alpha Dean, Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Blood and Gore, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Omega Sam, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Public Claiming, Scent Kink, Scenting, Self-Lubrication, Soulmates, Submission, Supernatural Kink Meme, Trauma, Violence, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaNocturnal/pseuds/AnnaNocturnal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is an Alpha, like the rest of his—maybe dysfunctional—pack, until he’s kidnapped and turned into an omega as revenge for the vampire Luther’s death. After rescue, Sam is overwhelmed, his nerves chafed by his now smothering and over-protective pack. His mind is already bucking against his changing body and new instincts, but then the other shoe drops—Dean is Sam’s true fated mate. Sam bolts, taking off in the night, and ends up stuck in a backward town where omegas—particularly males—are treated as property, awarded to the last Alpha standing in a grand public spectacle of won dominance. Dean manages to find Sam in time to save him, but at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt by livejournal user ereynolds74 via my prompt submissions page.
> 
>  **Kinks** : a/b/o dynamics, knotting, marking/biting, public claiming, exhibitionism, hurt/comfort, tears/crying, violence/aggression, object insertion, gangbang, bondage, torture, WAFF (bros I don’t even know if that’s a kink but there you have it).
> 
>  **Warnings** : Pretty serious non-con in the first chapter. I’m going to write this so that you can start at chapter two and still get the gist of the story. Maaaaaybe some dub-con in the last two, depending on the exact spot your moral line is drawn regarding a character being completely acquiescent to the actual act of sex but not agreeable to the actual circumstances of it taking place.

Sam had been flying solo on a hunt when everything went to shit. It wasn’t that unusual, really—Sam hunting alone _or_ everything going to shit. Sam was part of a sort of non-traditional pack, to say the least. They were brought together by their profession, by their lifestyle, rather than by blood or mating ties. So that was one unusual thing. The other, even more uncommon detail about their pack was that all of them—Sam, Dean, John, Bobby, Cas, and even Garth—were Alphas. Every single one. Although okay, you wouldn’t really know it about Garth unless you could smell it on him, quiet power and command coiled tight under a goofy, bumbling exterior. But regardless, the fact remained that he was an Alpha, just like the rest of them.

Their shared status meant that tension could rise high. A lot. It seemed like every day there was some sort of upheaval, some sort of challenge to the status quo and restructuring of their fragile heirarchy. Sam thought it was pretty ridiculous to claim they even had an hierarchy, really, considering how volatile it was between the six of them on any given day. But they looked out for each other, watched each other’s backs and supported each other like a family, so a pack they remained. 

John and Sam had gotten into it the night before Sam left on the hunt. He didn’t actually give a flying fuck about who was the ‘lead Alpha’ on any given day. His rage and aggression wasn’t about that. He was tired of John treating him like a goddamned soldier who was supposed to fall in line at every barked order. It was fine for his older brother Dean, who lived for the hunt and never questioned John’s ‘lead Alpha’ attitude, but it chafed Sam’s nerves raw, both as an Alpha and a son. 

It wasn’t unusual for any one of the pack members to take off for a few days after a fight and cool down. Hell, if they didn’t the pack would probably implode within a month. So when they had caught wind of a rogue vampire a few towns over, Sam jumped at it, bristling at his father’s approving nod as he packed up. 

It wasn’t unusual for a hunt to go sideways, either. Actually, it was probably more unusual for one to go smoothly. Just part of the territory, really. But this… _This_ was a new and terrifying twist, Sam thought as his exhausted mind and body threatened to shut down. 

Sam had realized, too late, that the vampire he was hunting wasn’t rogue at all. Not even close. She was a member of an established nest, the leader of which he had unfortunately met before. So the vampire wasn’t a rogue without a coven; she was bait. 

He was on the hook and being reeled in before he realized it. A hard blow from behind knocked him unconscious, and when he woke again he was in an old warehouse, chained by the hands and feet to a metal surface—a work table, he thought, but couldn’t see enough to be sure. There was a thick wad of fabric in his mouth and a length of the same covering from just under his nose to the bottom of his chin, tied tight at the back of his head to stop him from spitting it out. 

That was three days ago. Now, Sam was still on that table, rivulets of blood flowing from several deep bite marks littered across his body, pooling around and then seeping under his back when he arched in pain. He had realized what the metal surface was—an embalming table, with a drain in the center. The vampires were collecting his blood. 

The gag had been removed when he had started to vomit from the pain, twisting as far onto his side as he could, pushing what little air was in his lungs out forcefully to try to keep his airway clear. 

Kate stared down at him, watching with mild interest as he fought to stay conscious. She hadn’t said much, had just watched as the nest took turns torturing him. He let out a low groan as she reached out, dragging a finger over one of the bleeding crescents, drawing a hiss of pain from the hunter. 

“You know, I thought that once I had a Winchester on the table, I’d become inspired. Honestly, Sam, I have no idea what to do with you.” She seemed to be pondering the choices. “I could kill you. I mean, it would be fair. An eye for an eye, right? But you know, I can’t shake this feeling that just killing you wouldn’t be enough. I’d still be _fucking pissed_.” The last words were nearly a growl of rage. She crossed her arms and began a slow circle around the table, like a shark circling its pray. 

Sam swallowed hard, clearing his throat of the bile that had coated it with the last wave of pain-induced nausea. “Kill me, then. It’s not going to bring Luther back.” His voice was almost taunting as he outlined the futility of her endeavor. 

She moved, so fast he barely saw it, and tangled her hand in his hair, roughly jerking his head up. Her face was close to his, noses almost touching, eyes narrowed in fury. 

“I thought about changing you, Sam. Thought about it. I can’t bring Luther back, no. He’s gone forever thanks to your bastard father.” Her breath was sickly sweet, like sugar and the sweet decay of rot mixed together. “But I could replace him. And how much would it hurt dear old Johnny to know that his youngest son was my personal bitch for the rest of eternity?” 

Sam spit, enraged, a thrill of triumph rushing through him as saliva, blood, and bile sprayed her face. It was short lived as she slammed his head back down against the metal table, her hand tight around his throat. It was a moment before she spoke again. “Yeah, I realized that you’d never be controllable, that making you a vampire, more powerful even than you are now, would be a mistake. But it gave me an idea, see?” She smiled, true glee glinting in her eyes. “What could hurt a proud Alpha boy the most, really make sure that even his proud Alpha daddy feels it?” She put a strange emphasis on Alpha that carried the promise of a darker meaning. 

Sam’s blood went cold when it hit him. He thrashed, trying to move away from her, shaking his head desperately. “Don’t. Fucking kill me, Kate, but don’t you fucking do that!” 

“Yeah, Sammy…” Her hand came out to cup his chin, making him look at her as his chest heaved, his eyes wild with panic. “I’m gonna turn you into a breeding bitch.” 

** ~~~ **

Dean had gotten worried when Sam didn’t show up after the second day, more worried that he hadn’t even called. It was just supposed to be a single vamp, a simple chop-and-drop less than an hour away. There was no way the job wasn’t done now, if that was all there was to it. And even if Sam had decided not to come home right away, it wasn’t like him not to call. 

After a half hour with the phone company, he was tracking Sam’s cell phone online. A quick search of the address made his stomach drop. 

“Bobby!” he bellowed as he began to gather his stuff. Bobby was the only one home at the moment. 

The GPS had told him that Sam’s cell was less than ten minutes away, in an abandoned warehouse behind an old factory. He was stationary, and the phone record showed no signs of activity for the last three days. Assuming that Sam was with his phone—and Dean couldn’t imagine how else the phone would have wound up there if he wasn’t—something wasn’t right. And for something to be going on so close to a well-known hunting pack, well… Dean was assuming it was a trap. But he’d be damned if that would stop him from going after Sammy. 

He filled Bobby in when the hunter arrived at the door to his room, not pausing in preparations to do so, and headed for the Impala. The surly older Alpha followed close behind, the thick scent of his outrage feeding Dean’s own, overwhelming and quieting the underlying odor of fear. 

They didn’t talk much on the drive to the warehouse, Bobby slathering on a thick layer of scent-masking gel and then setting the bottle on the seat between then so that Dean could do the same when they arrived. 

The gel had been a concoction of Ellen’s, back when she was hunting. As an omega, her scent gave her no end of trouble from creatures and pack alike. Suppressants helped, but as an ingested chemical they had their own set of problems. The gel was better; temporary and free of side effects. It was a godsend, truly. It was hard to get the jump on a monster when it could smell you from fifty yards out, especially at times when tensions were high and scent thick. Times like this. 

Dean slathered it on quickly, checked that his gun was loaded—it wouldn’t kill a vamp; might slow it down though—and wrapped a hand around the hilt of the machete that Bobby extended to him. 

With a last determined glance and nod to each other, they got out of the car. 

** ~~~ **

Sam screamed—in sheer blinding rage, from the tearing pain, or just from a need to do _something_ when he couldn’t move; he wasn’t sure which anymore—and pleaded, truly pleaded, for the first time since the whole ordeal had begun, for the vampires to just kill him. Hell, even turning him would have been preferable—he would die hating himself as a monster, sure, but at least he knew that his pack would kill him then. But this…this was the very worst thing they could do, and served the additional purpose of ensuring that he would be forced to live to suffer through it. 

Because Sam was part of an all-Alpha bloodline, an all-Alpha pack, and no Alpha would harm an omega of their own kind, or let them be harmed. So instead of Sam having five hunters that he could count on to end this hell, he now had five hunters that would ensure he stayed trapped in it. 

The vampire who was currently ripping him apart, a burly man who appeared to have been turned in his late thirties, gave a particularly hard thrust, ripping another anguished scream from Sam’s raw throat. Blood and semen smeared Sam’s ass and thighs, slicking the way for the vampire—the third, Sam thought, but he couldn’t be sure, pain making them bleed together in his mind—but it was too little, too late. The first had torn him when he pushed his way in, hard and fast. Sam’s body wasn’t made for that, and the tearing was especially bad—felt like he was being violated by a baseball bat covered in razor blades—and it only worsened each time a new vamp mounted him and pushed inside. 

He felt the burly man’s dick twitch and he pulled out roughly, half a second before Sam felt wet heat splatter his back and the curve of his ass, marking and humiliating him. He let out an anguished sob and began to collapse, knees weak and forearms aching, but before he knew it another set of hands were grabbing his hips and holding him steady as the next one thrust inside of him without a moment’s pause. 

He threw his head back, screamed, tears streaming down his face. How much pain, humiliation, trauma could a body take before it shut down? Why was he still alive? 

His head dropped back down and in the flash and blur of his vision something caught his eye. He looked back up, trying to clear his vision even as tears continued to flow forth to obscure it. 

Dean was creeping around the perimeter of the room, his eyes trained on Sam in barely-contained fury and hatred as he moved behind Kate, sneaking up on the vampire as she grinned, enjoying the spectacle. 

Sam broke, the last thread holding him together snapping when he realized that his big brother had watched him get fucked by an entire nest of vampires, watched them turn Sam into an omega, a heating bitch, a weak burder, a liability. 

The next second the machete sliced through the air and Kate’s head hit the ground. A beat later and the same happened to the vampire fucking Sam, his head landing next to the ruined Alpha. And in the moment before the vampire’s body crumpled it hit Sam in a fleeting thought, borne of insanity and desperation, that _a dead guy was inside of him_ and wasn’t that just fucking perfect; wasn’t that just the cherry on top of this shit sundae? 

He dissolved into hysterical laughter before the world faded to black. 

** ~~~ **

Dean and Bobby were silent as they carried Sam to the Impala, Bobby offering no comment, no question as Dean climbed into the back and cradled Sam to his chest. The Alphas were both tight wires, waiting to snap, trying to just hold it together. The smell of the gore caking Sam’s unconscious body turned Dean’s stomach and boiled his blood. He took in the array of bite marks, the steady seeping of blood and worse from between his younger brother’s buttocks, and did everything he could to just hold it together. 

They didn’t say a word on the drive back, or when they got home and Dean filled the tub and cleaned the wrecked body gently, draining and refilling the tub four times before the water finally remained clear. They were quiet even after Sam was dressed and Dean had climbed onto the bed beside him, sitting back against the headboard as his brother slept. 

Bobby leaned agains the door frame, knowing instinctively that Dean wouldn’t let anyone near Sam, even pack, and that the wire holding the young Alpha together may finally snap if he got closer. 

They watched Sam sleep, waited for him to wake, and they didn’t say a damned word.


	2. Part Two

It was two days later that Sam woke up. Two days after Dean and Bobby burst into the warehouse and witnessed the purposeful rape of the pack’s youngest Alpha at the hands of a vampire coven. Two days after they slaughtered each one and brought Sam home.

He finally opened his eyes and almost immediately sat up—or, he tried to, eyes wide and terrified—and then let out a piercing scream and fell back as pain ripped through him, still struggling to get away, not knowing or caring that it was Dean beside him or that he was home. 

Dean had been working his way through a tall stack of newspapers from all around the country. John had accepted that Dean wasn’t going to leave Sam and had put him on lookout for possible cases. He hadn’t expected the sudden awakening. A thick cloud of terror quickly filled the room and nearly scared the shit out of Dean, paired with the scream and the sudden desperate thrashing movement beside him. 

“Whoa, whoa! Sam! Sammy!” He grabbed at his brother, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him back into his chest before tossing a leg over Sam’s thigh to hold him in place, afraid that the desperate movement would reopen the tears that, judging by Sam’s boxers when Dean had put fresh clothes on him, had finally begun to heal. “Sammy, it’s okay. Calm down.” 

His brother almost immediately went pliant in his arms, body still shaking with terror but the ability to act upon it sucked out of him. And nothing could have terrified Dean more than that, because there was no way that an even command like that should have worked on his brother—on _any_ Alpha. 

He had known, logically, that Sam would be an omega now; that such a violent forced submission couldn’t yield any other outcome. But Dean had never been completely logical when it came to Sam, and he had managed to convince himself over the past two days that maybe—just _maybe_ —it hadn’t taken; that Sam hadn’t changed. 

But here it was, proof of Kate’s success, her lasting revenge against John permanently stamped on Sam. 

There were footsteps out in the hall and Dean spotted Garth through the door. The runty-looking Alpha stopped dead in his tracks, his nose lifting as he scented the air, confusion furrowing his brow. 

“Dude.” He looked at Dean questioningly. “You got a girl up here somewhere?” 

Dean knew Garth meant no harm—turned omegas were rare, an Alpha’s nature making it exceptionally hard to overpower and dominate one; and natural-born male omegas were even more rare. About one in twenty were male, and only one in five were born omegas to begin with. So Garth’s assumption that the thick scent in the air was that of a girl was understandable, logical. 

But again, Dean had never been completely logical when it came to Sam. He reached behind him and picked up the first thing he found—the now-empty plate that Bobby had brought him at breakfast—and hurled it at Garth. The smaller Alpha dodged it and it hit the wall behind him, shattering as he raised his hands in surrender. 

“Sorry, man.” He stepped back. “No need to go all primative.” 

Dean watched Garth leave, trying to reign in his aggression, knowing instinctively that Sam needed him to be calm in order to calm down himself. 

He exhaled slowly. “God, baby boy, what’re we gonna do with you?” 

**_~~~_ **

The next month with Sam was a shitshow. Most of the pack alternated between avoiding the new omega and skittering around the house on edge, caught between their instincts to dote on Sam, and Sam’s barely-contained pain-fed rage. 

On day four, Sam’s first day out of bed, Cas had offered to get Sam a blanket when the omega had seemed cold while watching TV. Sam lost his mind, shouting himself hoarse until the quiet Alpha was nearly in tears, his instincts screaming at him to comfort Sam, while every attempt he made just made Sam angrier. 

On day six, Bobby made a salad with dinner. Never mind that not one of the other Alphas had ever voluntarily eaten a salad in their lives. But Bobby knew that Sam liked them, so he made one. That had resulted in bits of lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, and dressing stuck to the wall in pattern that resembled the scorch marks of a bomb, shattered glass scattered on the linoleum underneath. 

On day eight, Dean and Cas went on a hunt. When they returned on day twelve, they found John pacing in the front yard, anger radiating off of him, fists balled up at his sides as Bobby hovered nearby, unsure of what to do. 

Inside, Garth was standing outside of the bathroom door, trying desperately to get a word in over loud crashing sounds that punctuated an endless stream of profanity. It was hard to riddle out, but it all seemed to center around “ _fucking bubble bath… I’m not a fucking girl!_ ” 

Day sixteen found Garth stumbling downstairs and to the kitchen sink with blood pouring from his hands as he clasped them over his nose. Dean never did figure out exactly what that was about. 

Each time, Sam had continued the rage spiral until Dean finally stepped in, ordering the omega to stand down. Dean figured it was because of their bond as brothers. Or maybe because Dean had been the first one to issue and order when Sam woke up, like a baby duck imprinting on its mom. But Dean hated seeing his once-strong little brother broken and compliant, with no ability to govern his own actions. 

Shit didn’t _really_ hit the fan until day twenty, though. Day twenty made all of those other incidents seem like minor squabbles. 

Sam had mentioned at breakfast that he was going to head into town later to pick up a few things from the store. John, without hesitation, barked, “Absolutely not.” 

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Privately, the other four Alphas agreed, but they could all see where this was going too clearly to say so. 

Sam’s voice was low, dangerous. “You can’t _forbid_ me from going.” 

“Like hell.” John’s voice was deadly calm. 

Garth stood up slowly and eased his way back from the table and towards the door. “This seems like a blood thing… I’ll just uh…give you guys your privacy.” Then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps on the stairs betraying the fact that he was fleeing at full speed. 

Cas got up as well. “I am very uncomfortable here.” Never one for unnecessary explanation or polite excuses, he left it at that and calmly exited. 

“You can’t control where I go or when!” Sam was hitting peak rage, eyes flashing. “I’m a full-grown Al—” 

“ _Omega_.” John said the world slowly and deliberately, stressing every syllable. “I know it’s hard and it sucks and I’d give anything to undo what was done to you, but you’re an omega now, and it’s goddamned time for you to start acting like it!” 

Sam stood up quickly, hands slamming down flat on the table, rattling the dishes and flatware with the sheer force of impact. “What? Now that I’m a _bitch_ I should roll over and be a good little omega? A breeder with no rights or brain? Bare my neck to _you?_ ” 

Dean cleared his throat as he smelled the spike in John’s scent in response to an omega towering over him as Sam was. “Sammy…” 

Sam ignored him, continuing full-steam. “You think that because I’m an omega I’ll finally just let you rule over me? That just follow your orders like some whipped bitch? _You’re not my fucking Alpha!_ ” 

Dean was starting to panic at the rage rolling off of John, not understanding why his brother wasn’t reacting to it. “Sammy, for fuck’s sake, _sit down and shut up!_ ” 

Sam dropped back into his chair, jaw clenched as he shook with rage, eyes mutinous. Bobby was staring between him and Dean, surprise and confusion etched into his face. 

John finally spoke, seeming to be putting a great deal of effort into controlling his tone. “What I mean, son, is that it isn’t _safe_ for you—an unmated omega—to go out alone. Now that you’re no longer an Alpha, you need to come to terms with things like that.” 

Sam eyed John murderously but seemed to still be unable to speak. Dean sighed and stood up, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. 

“C’mon, Sammy. I’ve gotta get some stuff from town, too. I’ll go with you.” 

Sam bristled. “Don’t need a baby sitter.” 

Dean grinned despite himself at the petulant tone. “Yeah, and I don’t need my snot-nosed baby brother tagging along everywhere I go, but it doesn’t make sense for us to make separate trips.” 

Sam eyed him suspiciously for a moment before he finally nodded and stood up. He traded one last heated look with John and then followed Dean out of the house. 

**_~~~_ **

Dean walked half a step behind Sam as they made their way from the parking lot to the store, keeping an eye on him at all times. He was more anxious than he thought he would be, seeing his brother walk past Alphas and having them scent the air and then turn to stare at him. Dean shot warning glances at a few of them who gave off a particularly strong scent in reaction to his brother. 

“Are you going to follow me around the store?” Sam’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

Dean didn’t answer, but the look on his face must have said it all. No way in hell was he leaving Sam alone in public; not even letting him out of sight; not even out of arm’s reach. _Too dangerous_ , the baser part of his mind whispered. 

The way Sam shifted uncomfortably at this realization made him suspicious. “Why? What are you getting?” 

“Just some personal stuff,” Sam muttered, blood rising in his cheeks. 

“What? Like porn?” Dean was surprised that his little brother was interested in that so soon after what had happened. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, man. You’re still a red-blooded male, after all—” 

Sam shook his head, looking humiliated beyond all reason as he mumbled something that Dean didn’t catch. 

“What?” Dean asked and Sam turned redder. 

“I said I’m getting wet, okay?” he hissed quietly. “I need liners.” 

Dean’s mind stalled as he processed this information. “What, like now?” 

Sam groaned, frustrated. “No, Dean! Not fucking _now!_ ” He exhaled hard, not meeting the Alpha’s eyes. “It’s just…it’s been happening lately, mostly when I first wake up, and it’s gross and I’m getting sick of it, okay?” 

Dean didn’t know about _gross_ ; but then, slick was pretty much engineered by nature to appeal to Alphas. The smell of it, what it _meant_ … Dean had to stop those thoughts as he felt his dick give a slight twitch. He had no idea, anyway, how Sam’s brain, rewiring from Alpha to omega, perceived it. 

So he nodded and shrugged and tried to act like the thought of an omega in his own pack waking up every day dripping with slick didn’t effect him. 

After a moment Sam seemed to realize that, despite the revelation, Dean still wasn’t going to let him out of sight. He sighed and led the way to an aisle full of products made specially for omegas. 

On the way home, Sam was sullen. Embarrassed, Dean figured. He turned down the music, glancing between his brother and the road. 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Sammy.” He spoke softly, hoping not to upset him. 

Sam huffed and looked out the window, watching as the scenery flew by. “I could’ve gone by myself.” 

Dean sighed, hoping this wasn’t about to turn into a fight. He hadn’t been the recipient of Sam’s anger yet, and he didn’t want to be. “Look, man. No one’s saying you’re weak or can’t hold your own. We all know better than that. But you’ve got instinct working _against_ you now; there are a lot of Alphas out there who would take advantage of your instincts and hurt you. Especially as a male.” 

They both knew that Dean was right. Male omegas were a huge commodity, in high demand with little supply. Even if an Alpha didn’t want Sam for themself, they could make a killing selling him to the highest bidder. 

They both knew this, logically. But Sam wasn’t ready to swallow it, wasn’t done raging. “I wouldn’t get taken; I can defend myself.” 

Dean, desperate to make a point, did something very, very stupid. He let the scent of lust and power roll off of him in thick waves, quickly filling the small space inside of the car. When he spoke, his voice was low, commanding. “Sammy, if I told you to go ass-up for me right here, right now, and told you to take my knot, you’d beg for it.” 

There was a moment’s pause and then Dean smelled it as slick started to leak from Sam and the omega burst into tears. 

It was a long, awkward car ride home as Sam struggled with his body’s instincts and Dean wallowed in guilt. 

**_~~~_ **

The rest of the month—thankfully—passed without anything as serious as the kitchen confrontation between Sam and John. The omega was still on the warpath every few days, confusing and terrifying the poor Alphas as they tried to find their footing. Dean still managed to calm Sam down before anything too serious occurred—although admittedly Cas and Garth had both been punched in the face; Garth no less than three times. 

But _generally_ speaking, the rest of the month was pretty uneventful. 

Of course, any Winchester born earlier than yesterday knew that “uneventful” never lasted long. And sure enough, on day thirty-six, intermission ended and the shitshow recommenced.


	3. Part Three

In retrospect, Dean should have known better than to take Sam with him to the pool hall that night when he went to hustle a few poor suckers to turn a quick buck. But the omega was going stir-crazy at the house, unable to leave without a chaperone but unwilling to ask the others to take him along. He couldn’t ask Garth or Cas, because he had punched them both and though he felt bad—well, mostly—he hadn’t apologized. They’d likely forgive him; after all, Garth was a giant goofball and Cas, though he seemed alarmingly serious and aloof, was pretty much a giant baby in a trench coat. But the remnants of Sam’s Alpha pride wouldn’t let him apologize, so he couldn’t ask either of them to tag along.

Asking John was out of the question as well, because doing so would be tantamount to admitting that he had been right in forbidding Sam from going out alone. So Sam didn’t admit defeat, but didn’t ask to go with him, either. 

Then there was Bobby. Honestly, Sam probably _would_ have asked Bobby, but the hunter was all but retired and stayed home most of the time as a sort of mission control, fielding calls and dispensing information for a wide network of hunters across the country. So there was nothing to ask when it came to Bobby, really. 

That just left Dean. He felt bad for his little brother, trapped in the house all day, and so he invited Sam to come along whenever he left. Well, not on hunts; Dean was worried that he wouldn’t be able to protect Sam in the midst of it all. And no matter how many times Ellen’s scent-masking gel had saved his ass, he didn’t trust _anything_ enough to bet Sam’s life on it. But everywhere else he went, yeah, Sam went along. 

So Dean hadn’t thought twice about letting him come when he went to hustle pool. It was always better to have a second person along, anyway. It didn’t look as suspicious—because how many terrible pool players went out on a Friday night, on their own, and chose a pool hall?—and it was just always a good idea to have backup in case the hustle went sideways. 

It had started out smoothly enough, with him and Sam playing a game—badly—like two friends just goofing off, no real idea what they were doing. After, Dean had a pretty easy time lining up a game, the bet finally settling on $200. The other guy racked the balls as Sam went to the bar to grab them a couple of beers. 

It was after Dean broke, scattering the balls but sinking none, that he glanced toward the bar. He found Sam, leaning against it as he waited to order, and then his eyes landed on the Alpha next to his brother. He was leaning over slightly to check his neck for the—nonexistent—mating mark that would mark Sam as off-limits. 

Dean froze as the Alpha leaned forward and spoke into Sam’s ear, smirking as his hand came to rest on the small of Sam’s back. Dean dropped the cue stick and was racing to the bar as Sam’s cheeks flushed and his eyes lit up with fury. He was almost there— _almost_ —and reaching out to grab the Alpha, yank him back, when Sam grabbed the arm around his waist and brought it up, twisting it sharply with a feral snarly, the bone snapping audibly. 

There was a beat of silence and then, as the Alpha let out a howl of enraged pain, the bar broke out in complete pandemonium. Alphas and betas jumped to their feet, while no less than six omegas hit the ground at the sudden swell of aggression hitting the air, but Dean realized with a lurch of his stomach that Sam wasn’t one of them. He was squaring off against two of the Alpha’s friends. 

_Not good not good not good._ Dean’s baser instincts were screaming at him, drowning out all rational thought. 

He shouted over the noise without thinking. “Get on the goddamned floor before I _put_ you on the fucking floor!” 

Sam dropped immediately, pressing himself as flat as humanly possible and for a moment Dean’s rational mind panicked, terrified that the Alphas would take advantage of the omega’s vulnerable position. 

But baser instinct and pack law ran deep; never spoken, never taught, but always known and strictly followed. So although the Alphas were still furious, their scents thick and suffocating, they didn’t make a move against Sam. To harm a claimed omega was move against the omega’s pack, and while Sam wasn’t _mated_ , he was still claimed by a pack, with an Alpha present to represent it. 

Dean approached slowly, trying to avoid being perceived as a threat. The Alphas couldn’t harm Sam, but that rule didn’t extend to Dean as an Alpha. 

He saw Sam start to move, to pick himself up, and he let out a low growl. “Stay on the goddamned floor until I tell you to get up.” 

Sam let out a choked, panicked gasp, and Dean tried not to think about the last time Sam had been pinned, unable to move. Tried not to think about what it must be doing to him now. What _Dean_ was doing to him now. He reminded himself that Sam was safe on the floor, whether he liked it or not, and that if he stood, if he showed any lack of submission, he’d be in danger. 

Because Sam _was_ an unmated omega. And Dean’s authority as a pack Alpha only extended insofar as that remained true. If Sam was mated, claimed, that was it. Game over. 

Because it was pack law not to interfere in a claiming. If Dean didn’t stop it before it started, he wouldn’t be able to at all. He doubted if Sam, instinctively removed from Alphas, really grasped just how serious the situation was. 

“Listen,” he began carefully, keeping any harsh edges out of his words, “don’t hurt him, please. He was recently turned, hasn’t adjusted yet. He panicked.” He eyed them for a moment, gauging their reactions. There were few Alphas who didn’t feel a deep stab of pity for a fellow Alpha who had been turned omega. Sure enough, their expressions began to soften a little. Dean took a shaky breath and continued. “I apologize, on behalf of my pack, and I assure you he will be dealt with. We’re up in Sioux Falls; a place called Singer’s Auto. Forward us the hospital bill and we’ll take care of it.” 

There was a pause and Dean held his breath. Finally, the Alpha with the broken arm nodded, and he and his friend pushed past Dean to leave. Dean tried not to let his posture betray his relief. 

He looked down at Sam and the relief became tinged with rage. Rage that Sam had put himself in such danger, had almost gotten himself killed or claimed, had almost been lost to Dean forever. 

His hard voice was no longer for effect. “Get the fuck up and head for the goddamned door, Sammy.” He was shaking, that rage building. He needed to get the omega out of his sight, get himself under control before he was alone with him. “Wait for me in the car. Lock the doors.” 

Sam scrambled to his feet and did as he was told, shame and humiliation burning in his cheeks, head low as he went. 

“Why haven’t you claimed him yet?” 

The question took Dean by surprise and he just stared blankly at the one Alpha who remained from the other group for a moment before he shrugged. “Not mine to claim. 

The Alpha furrowed his brow. “Then why does he listen to you?” 

“I guess ‘cause I’m an Alpha.” 

“Yeah, but I mean, why does he _only_ listen to you? Every other omega in this place hit the ground on instinct—he only did when you ordered him to.” The Alpha looked slightly amazed that Dean didn’t seem to know why that was a big deal. “That’s some fated mate shit if I’ve ever seen it.” 

He clapped Dean on the shoulder before heading off after the others, leaving Dean to absorb what he had said. 

** ~~~ **

The ride back home was quiet. Sam was worried that speaking would make Dean angrier, but the truth was that Dean wasn’t even angry anymore. He was replaying the other Alpha’s words, over and over, trying to come to some sort of understanding of them. 

When they got back home, Bobby was the only one downstairs at the late hour. Dean almost went to bed without pausing, drained from the night’s events, but then he thought of something. Bobby was like an encyclopedia of random mythical fact, and if anything ever sounded mythical, it was the term “fated mate”. 

To his surprise, when he asked Bobby what he knew about them, the Alpha just scoffed in an amused way before turning to look at him. 

“Know I’ve never laid eyes on a more obvious pair of ‘em than you two idjits.” 

A sound behind Dean made him turn around, his eyes landing on Sam as the omega stood in the doorway, eyes wide and panicked. 

“Sam…” 

But before Dean could get out another word, the omega turned tail and ran.


	4. Part Four

_After the division the two parts of man, each desiring his other half, came together, and throwing their arms about one another, entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one, they began to die from hunger and self-neglect, because they did not like to do anything apart.  
_

So ancient is the desire of one another which is implanted in us, reuniting our original nature, seeking to make one of two, and to heal the state of man. 

And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together, and yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. 

—from Aristophanes’ speech; Plato’s _Symposium_

** ~~~ **

Sam, unlike Dean, _had_ heard of fated mates before. He knew and understood what it meant. He had come across the subject in one of Bobby’s books when he was younger. It had been a little hard to understand—Sam had gotten the impression it was hard to even explain—but the idea was similar to the idea of “soul mates”. The general idea was that there were an infinite number of souls in the world, but that there were a certain number of original souls; old ones that had been around since the beginning of time. Each of these souls were one half of a whole, originally inhabiting one body in a way that reminded Sam of the state of man in Plato’s _Symposium_. Whether through the wrath of gods, like in Plato, or through simple evolution or a fluke of nature, the souls split along with the bodies and now, lifetime after lifetime, those old souls were drawn to each other, two halves of one ancient entity. Alpha and omega. 

When he was younger, he had privately imagined, hoped, that he was one of those old souls; that out there somewhere was another half, that he would meet and spend the rest of his life with in perfect balance and contentment, without that nagging feeling of _incomplete_ in the back of his mind. Because that feeling had always been there. The closest he ever felt to being whole was when he was with Dean, but while nature or the fates may not give a flying fuck about the genetics of siblings when it came to pack, he and Dean were both Alphas, and _that_ didn’t work. 

So he had gone off to college, and he had met Jess, a beta, and fell head over heels completely in love with her. He thought you could only fall in love like that once, and so he had let go of the hope that he was a fated soul, once and for all. 

Could it have been Dean all along? Could they actually be _fated_ , and everything that had happened up to this point, even Sam becoming an omega, had aligned to allow them to realize it? 

It was too much for Sam to absorb; too much too suddenly for him to take in. And then Dean had turned, had looked at him with that raw, almost scared expression, and Sam had run. He had to. Just over a month ago he had been Alpha, content, Dean’s little brother. To come to terms with suddenly being omega, out of balance, _fated_ … It was just too much. He needed air. He needed to think. He needed to run. 

He took one of the more serviceable cars from Bobby’s yard—not that that was saying much—and just drove. No idea where he was going, what he would do when he got there. He drove until suddenly, the car wouldn’t drive anymore. And then he sat there, the sun starting to come over the horizon in bright splashes of orange and red. 

He finally got out and popped the hood of the car, hoping that whatever had finally given out in it would be obvious enough for him to figure it out, but no luck. Dean had always been the one who knew cars. Sam, however, was lost. 

Well. His ‘driving off into the night to figure himself out’ move hadn’t lasted long. He shot a dark glare at the engine as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dean’s number, glowering as he listened to it ring. 

Dean picked up halfway through the second tone. “Sammy? Where the hell are you? I thought you just went outside for a minute and then I find out you’re actually gone! You know it’s not safe out there—” 

“Dean.” Sam closed his eyes, relief washing over him, releasing anxiety that he hadn’t known had been building until it was gone. “The car broke down.” 

There was a beat of silence. “What do you mean the car broke down? Where are you?” Sam could hear shuffling on the other end of the line, the jingle of keys. “I’m coming to get you.” 

Sam squinted at a far-off sign. “Some town called Bragg. I’m pretty sure I crossed into North Dakota awhile back.” 

“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean huffed and Sam could hear the Impala’s ignition turn over through the phone. “Stay there; I’m on my way.” 

The line went dead, and Sam started walking. 

** ~~~ **

Bragg was a tiny little town; probably didn’t even appear on most road maps. It had a population of less than one thousand, over three-quarters of which were pack. It was a pretty impressive ratio, considering the fact that humans had surpassed pack in the general population a long time ago. Still, there were a few towns dotted across the nation that had maintained near-purity. 

What Sam didn’t know, what he really wished he had known, was that those towns were governed not by human law, but by the long-held instinctual laws that still governed the hindbrains of pack today, presided over and enforced by a council of Alpha and beta elders. But Sam had no idea, and so he figured it was just another sleepy American town, and that he would find somewhere to wait for Dean to make the six-hour drive—well, five the way that Dean drove—to come collect his ass. 

He found a small diner on the main road, large hand-painted signs in the window proclaiming that the place had “the best pie in the tri-county area!” He smirked. If there was a place that Dean would look for him in Bragg, this was it. 

He went inside, the little bell over the door jingling cheerfully as the door swung in and then shut again. He took the furthest booth toward the back, sitting with his back to the corner. He figured that, if he was going to be out in public without one of the other pack members for awhile, it was best if he could see any threat coming immediately. 

There weren’t many people in the diner. It was early morning on a Saturday, so Sam supposed most of the town was still tucked away in bed. A waitress bustled around behind the counter, picking up a few plates that the cook had put in the little window between the back wall and the kitchen. An older man sat at the counter, leafing through a newspaper as his eggs went cold and his black coffee sent up spirals of steam. Two stools down, a police officer in full uniform sat, steadily making his way through a heaping plate of hashbrowns. The only occupied table aside from Sam’s was one in the front of the restaurant, where a middle-age couple sipped coffee, their heads bent close together as they spoke in low tones. 

Sam’s attention snapped back to the police officer when the man suddenly sat up straight, his face raising slightly as his nostrils flared. The omega froze, his guts feeling like they had been doused in ice water as the officer turned slowly, sharp eyes locking on Sam. 

The officer stood up, began to walk over to his booth, and Sam considered bolting. But why? He hadn’t done anything wrong. And it wasn’t like a _police officer_ was going to kidnap him out of the diner, in front of witnesses, and claim or sell him like he had been warned others might do. Local law enforcement was a giant pain in Sam’s ass as a hunter, sure. Sometimes useless, sometimes way too enthusiastic, sometimes corrupt; but nothing like _that_. 

The officer slid into the seat across from Sam and leaned forward. When he spoke, his voice was low, as though he were trying not to spook Sam. “Son, are you here alone?” 

“I’m waiting on someone,” Sam muttered. 

The officer seemed to be weighing his options. “It’s against the law for omegas to be in public without a chaperone.” He bristled at the surprised outrage that flooded Sam’s features. “It’s for your own good; you omegas can’t take care of yourself. Gotta make sure you’re safe.” 

Sam opened his mouth to snap that he could take care of himself just fine, but then the officer stood up, towering over him, and every instinct in Sam’s body screamed at him, forced him into compliance, his nerves crying out in the shocking pain that went with the intention to resist. He had never felt that before; only ever felt any sort of instinctive drive to listen to Dean, even when other Alphas were around, even John had tried to overrule him. 

That was when it hit him. Other Alphas couldn’t override his bond with Dean. That was why it had never worked. Sam had thought it was just because he wasn’t always an omega that he could resist the orders and scents. But it didn’t work with Dean. Dean cancelled out the others, because his claim to Sam trumped everything else. But now, Dean was far away, his scent nowhere near, unable to crowd out or cover the commands of other Alphas. 

“You’re going to have to come with me,” the officer said, and to his own horror Sam felt himself moving, following him out of the diner. 

** ~~~ **

Sam was taken first to a holding cell and locked inside. The officer didn’t cuff him; the Alpha’s command for Sam to wait there was all the insurance he needed to make sure the omega complied. He didn’t get it; was he under arrest? 

The sheriff didn’t give him much detail when he asked. “That’ll be for the council to decide. They’re the ones who rule on what to do with unmated omegas without representation.” 

“Representation?” 

“You’re claimed by a pack, right?” The officer’s eyes traveled over Sam, assessing him. “Only way an omega would’ve survived to your age unmated. Ordinarily if an omega is brought in, an Alpha speaks for them as representative of the pack’s claim. But when an omega is brought in without representation, the council rules on what to do.” 

Sam was at a loss. As an omega, he was acted upon by pack law rather than acting upon the law himself. As an Alpha, he had been unmated, part of an all-Alpha pack with no need to access the instinctive understanding of it before it was lost to him. He was going to have to wait it out, try to do what he could as he figured out what was going on. 

It was an hour before he was brought out of the holding cell, the sheriff ordering him to follow him down a long corridor and into a room where rows of chairs occupied most of the space. At the front of the room was a long table, at which set nine people, their scents combining in the air suggesting that they were a mix of Alpha and beta. Each had a placard in front of them, proclaiming their name, and as Sam was brought to stand in front of them, the sheriff remaining a few feet behind him, he saw that the one in the center bore the title of Head of Council under his name. 

The group fell silent, and then the head began to speak. “We are gathered to rule, as Pack Council of the township of Bragg, North Dakota, on the matter of Samuel Winchester. Mr. Winchester is an unmated and unclaimed omega, and in accordance with pack law is considered to be in immediate danger requiring the intervention of an individual or individuals to ensure his safety, decided in a manner deemed appropriate by this council.” 

“I’m claimed by pack,” Sam argued. He didn’t know how much weight that held; honestly. Never mattered as an Alpha. But he knew that was what Dean had been doing the previous night; what had made those other Alphas listen to him as he spoke for Sam. Claiming him as pack in the absence of a mating claim on Sam. 

The head of council eyed him suspiciously. “And is there an Alpha representing your pack present to speak for you?” 

“I can speak for myself.” 

The Alpha to the left of the head smirked. “No, you can’t. You’re a breeder; an omega. Your kind are important, cherished. But you lack agency for a good reason. You’re weak; ruled by instinct and bendable to the will of others. You’re lacking in self-governance.” 

Sam opened his mouth to retort but a heavy wave of scent poured from the sheriff and his words choked off in his throat. 

“I will now take into advisement any insight this counsel has to offer.” The head of counsel said and Sam’s heart dropped. That couldn’t be it, could it? 

“Wait!” He choked out. He thought quickly, the wheels of his mind spinning to find traction. “There’s an Alpha from my pack on his way—should only be a few hours. He can speak for me.” 

“Your pack relinquished its claim for you when it allowed you to stray so far from its protection.” The beta at the end of the row looked as though she genuinely pitied Sam; not for what the council was doing, but for the neglect of his pack. “Omegas are rare and precious; they are the carries of pack lines. They must be protected and valued. Your pack has proven that they are not up to the task.” She turned her attention to the head of council. “At this time I am officially advising that the omega be reassigned to the protection and claim of a more fitting Alpha, to be chosen by pack rite.” 

“Seconded,” the Alpha beside her grunted. 

One by one, every member of the council agreed. Sam was about to hit full-out panic. What the hell was _pack rite_? How were they going to assign him an Alpha? How could they just take him away from his pack? From Dean? 

No! They couldn’t take him away from Dean! 

“Wait!” His voice was shaking, desperate to make them stop this crazy ruling. “I’m fated.” He swallowed hard. “I have a fated mate. And you have no right to take me from him.” He was sure of this, absolutely sure deep in his bones, in the furthest reaches of his baser mind, that it was absolutely forbidden to separate fated mates. 

The head of council eyed him carefully, seeming to weigh his words carefully. After moment he leaned forward to address Sam directly. “ _And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself…the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together._ ” His voice was soft, almost lyrical as he recited Aristophanes’ speech. “Plato may not have been pack, but he understood the nature of fated mates in a way that few others have put into words. Your Alpha has neglected you; allowed you to be put into danger. He has let you go. That, omega, is not the behavior of a fated mate. You are not fated.” 

“I am!” Sam was about to lose it. How could they not believe him? “Dean didn’t neglect me; I freaked out and left. It’s not his fault—” 

“If you are fated, why are you not claimed?” another beta, halfway down the left side asked. 

Sam tried to find a good explanation for that. “When I found out…it was a lot to take in. I went to clear my head, and that was when I broke down here—” 

“If you were fated, your Alpha _would_ have claimed you.” The head of council sounded as though her were patiently explaining something to a child, amused at their confusion. Before Sam could argue further the Alpha raised his voice to address the entire gathering. “It is my ruling that, under pack law, an Alpha will be assigned to this omega, for the sake of his own safety and the continuation of pack. The selection of the Alpha will be by pack rite, to commence in the square in two hours time.” 

Sam’s stomach dropped violently and for a moment he thought he was going to vomit as the room emptied out and the sheriff moved forward once more, hand closing around Sam’s upper arm to lead him from the room and back to the holding cell. 

** ~~~ **

Dean’s phone rang as he crossed the border between North Dakota and South Dakota. He held it up, splitting his focus between the road and the caller ID before flipping it open. “Sammy?” 

“Dean.” The omega’s voice sounded tight, panicked, and Dean was immediately on edge at the idea of something threatening Sam. “You’ve gotta get here quick.” 

“Still about two hours out; on my way.” He pushed down harder on the gas, edging the Impala past 80 mph as he blew past a 60 mph speed limit sign. 

“You don’t understand. They don’t believe I’m claimed by pack; or, they do, they just think you guys suck at it…” Dean gave a shrug he knew Sam couldn’t see. 

“No one ever accused us of functioning well.” 

“Yeah, but listen, that means that they want to assign me to a new pack by pack rite, whatever that means, and they don’t believe that you’re my fated mate ‘cause I’m not claimed and—” 

“Wait, did they actually _say_ pack rite?” Dean’s pulse spiked as he realized what was going on. 

“Yeah, whatever that means.” 

“Sammy…” Dean’s mouth was dry, his mind racing. “Sammy, you do whatever you need to do to stall until I get there, okay? Whatever it takes; punch their lights out or something.” 

Sam seemed to pick up on the urgency in his voice. “What’s going on? What’s pack rite?” 

Dean took a steadying breath, pushing down even harder on the accelerator. “They’re going to have all of the unmated Alphas fight it out, and whoever wins gets to claim you.” 

“No, that can’t be right. It’s happening in the town square. In public.” 

“Yeah, Sammy.” 

He heard his brother whimper, the quiet sound breaking his heart. 

“Don’t worry; just stall. I’m on my way, baby boy.”


	5. Part Five

Dean’s heart leapt when he saw first the old Toyota broken down on the side of the road, and then the sign proclaiming that he was entering the township of Bragg. He checked the clock. Just over two hours since Sam had last called. Maybe he wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still time.

The hope was short-lived as he reached the small downtown area and had to slam on his brakes. It looked like the entire population of Bragg was out, a few stragglers at the outer boarder of the gathering gradually growing into a dense mob as his eyes scanned towards the town square. He threw the Impala into park, twisted the key to kill the engine, and jumped out, making his way on foot as he pushed through the crowds, slowly but surely forcing his way through to the center. 

What he found when he got there made his adrenaline spike further, his own scent growing in strength to compete and then disappear into the muddled cloud of the high-energy crowd. He had heard of pack rite before; had heard stories from his dad and Bobby, who were old enough to remember when the rituals were more commonly practiced, although even back then they had been fading out of popularity, pack already overwhelmed by full-blooded humans in the general population, the older practices being pushed into obsolescence. 

So he knew their stories. Knew how Bobby had won his late omega wife in pack rite. Knew how his dad had made an enemy of an entire town by running away with Mary before her own could take place. But he had never really grasped the enormity of the story; words couldn’t ever fully describe the scene before him. 

Gore. That was the first thing that Dean noticed. The square was covered in blood, the smell of it, along with sweat and thick suffocating rage and aggression made Dean’s eyes water. This wasn’t a fight to the death, Dean knew. Or, not inherently; it was a fight to whatever point the last Alpha finally gave up. But it was a fight that ended just short of it, no Alpha willing to submit for anything less than the last inch of his life. 

The pack rite could be done in brackets, and it was Dean’s understanding that it often was, out of a desire to seem more ‘civilized’. But that wasn’t the old way. The old way was a full-out battle royal, a free-for-all. That was what was going on here. No less than twenty Alphas were scrambling around in the melee, their feet sliding in blood, faces and arms and legs and torsos smeared in gore. Hands and fingers twisted into claws, teeth bared and snapping, jaws locked and wide, ready to fasten over a fragile throat. Bodies collided with sickening impact, snarls ripped from chests. Nearly inhuman sounds filled the air, overwhelming the surreal cheering from the crowd. 

And behind it all, there was Sammy. He was on some sort of raised platform, a bed at the center, his eyes wide as he looked out over the carnage, his body trembling in sheer terror at the scene unfolding before him. Dean’s breath froze in his chest at the look on his brother’s face, and he genuinely wondered if he was ever going to be able to put Sam back together again after this. 

He moved, circling around the crowd and toward the platform. He was moving quickly, without hesitation, and he figured that was the only thing that stopped anyone from thinking to stop him as he climbed up. Sam didn’t seem to notice him at first, and he jumped about a foot in the air with a loud cry of fear when Dean’s hand landed on his shoulder before suddenly the omega was plastered to his side, face pressed into his shoulder and fingers twisted into the back of his jacket. 

The crowd was beginning to quiet down, momentarily stunned by Dean’s presence, but Dean could hear the angry murmurs starting; knew that soon he wouldn’t be able to make himself heard over them. 

He cleared his throat, drew on everything in the baser part of him to make his voice strong, commanding. “My name is Dean Winchester; I’m here to exercise my claim as fated mate to Samuel Winchester and to take him back to our pack.” 

A loud roar of outrage rose collectively from the crowd and the Alphas in the center of the square who had paused in their fighting as Dean made his announcement. An older Alpha stepped forward into the square, the crowd parting easily for him. Dean felt Sam’s chest heave, heard the exhale of _”pack council”_ as the man opened his mouth, eyes locked on Dean. 

“Pack claims to Mr. Winchester have been voided by council ruling.” The Alpha’s voice was smooth but commanding as he attempted to stare Dean down. Dean noticed a uniformed police officer standing slightly behind the Head of Council, like a body guard. The man’s eye was swollen nearly shut, a deep purple bruise covering it and blossoming onto his nose. He felt Sam laugh against him and realized Sammy must have punched him. His chest swelled with a strange sort of pride. 

Dean smirked, not at all intimidated by the older Alpha. “Yeah, well. Fated mate. I win.” 

“The omega hasn’t been mated yet. Your claim doesn’t stand.” This came from a younger Alpha, one of the unmated who had been fighting when Dean arrived. His jaw was caked in blood, his knuckles split, bare chest smeared with gore. 

Dean felt his blood boil as Sam’s panic kicked back up at this proclamation. “You have no authority to take Sammy from me.” He glared at the Alpha, teeth bared in aggression. “I’ll never let you have him.” 

“Pack law states that an omega must be mated, or claimed.” Dean knew that he was bringing out the Head of Council’s aggression as well, no matter how diplomatically he spoke, and he could hear the vague threat in the words. “The pack claim was made void, and your claim as fated mate remains unconsummated. Brady has a fair claim.” 

“I’ll kill you and anyone else who wants to try it.” Dean’s voice was a low promise as he gently pulled Sam’s arms loose from around him and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it aside. He walked to the edge of the platform and jumped down, walking the short distance to meet Brady halfway. “Any other takers?” Dean’s voice was loud as he addressed the crowd. No one came forward. His eyes snapped back to Brady, disgust curling his lip away from his teeth. “Then let’s do this.” 

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t give Brady a chance to move before he had pulled back his fist and slammed it into the Alpha’s face. Brady went stumbling back and Dean advanced, but as the Alpha regained his footing he lunged, barreling all of his weight into Dean, knocking him to the ground. They both went tumbling and Brady got in one good punch, snapping Dean’s head back into the ground. Dean brought his knee up, slamming it into the Alpha’s stomach and forcing him off before rolling, scrambling to his knees and then stalking towards him as he struggled to regain his breath. He drew his foot back and kicked the Alpha hard in the ribs, causing him to hunch in, struggling to get to his feet. 

Dean kept kicking him, rage fueling every move until he was sure that Brady wasn’t getting up any time soon. He rested his foot on the Alpha’s shoulder and then pushed, rolling him onto his back. Dean kneeled down, pressing one knee to the center of his chest, keeping him pinned as he leaned close to his blood-smeared face. 

“If it wouldn’t break Sammy’s goddamned heart, I’d turn you into the bitch you really are right now.” His words were a low growl, more of a promise than a threat. But it _would_ hurt Sam to see him do that, after what had happened to him. He’d never be able to look at Dean without seeing those vampires who had turned him, and Dean knew he couldn’t live with himself if that were how Sam saw him. 

He stood up, stalking past the Head of Council and planting one hand flat on the stage for balance as he jumped back up. He wrapped his arm protectively around Sam and turned to address the Head of Council again. “If we’re done, Sam and I are leaving this crazy-ass town.” 

“You’ve won the right to claim him. But he’s still not claimed.” The look the Head of Council gave Dean then was an unmistakeable challenge and Dean felt his breath hitch as he realized what the man was saying. He brought Sam’s face up to make the omega look at him and tried to calm his scent; he didn’t want Sam to think he was ordering him to do anything. 

“Sammy. I don’t think we’re going to get out of this without me claiming you. Officially. As your mate.” He watched as his words landed, watched his brother turn them over in his head. 

“I want you to claim me, Dean.” Sam’s voice was small, vulnerable, and it kicked up everything in Dean that wanted to rage, to punish everyone in the damned town who had threatened the omega. “When we get home we can—” 

Dean swallowed hard before cutting him off. “No. I mean, I think we’re going to have to do this _here_. Now. That’s how a pack rite ends, and we’re pretty stuck. You’re not getting out of here without being claimed in front of all of them.” 

Sam’s breathing and heartbeat picked up so quickly that Dean was afraid he was going to pass out. He tried to calm the omega, but the terror in Sam ran too deep. And no wonder. The closest thing to this that Sam had ever been through had been— 

“It won’t be like that, baby boy,” Dean muttered, holding him tight against his chest. “I swear. I won’t let anyone get near you—kill them first. I’ll take care of you, Sammy; keep you safe. It’ll be like it would if we were back home; slow and gentle.” He kissed Sam’s forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. “I’ll show you how much I love you; how much I need you.” Dean felt himself hardening at the thought alone and he tried not to let Sam feel it, didn’t want to pressure the omega. 

He wouldn’t do it if Sam said no; he’d find another way to get them out if he had to slaughter the whole square to do it. He couldn’t force the omega his first time, couldn’t let it be like that. 

Sam buried his face in Dean’s neck, clinging tighter to him as he tried to stop the trembling throughout his body, with no success. “I’m scared, Dean,” he finally choked out. 

“I know.” Dean’s voice was quiet; Sam heard it more from the Alpha’s throat than his mouth. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Sammy. I’ll keep you safe. Forever, I swear.” And then he was tilting Sam’s face up again, his lips landing on the omega’s in a gentle press that slowly grew more heated, deeper as his hands moved to hold either side of Sam’s face. He poured every ounce of love he had for the omega into the kiss, from baby brother to best friend to hunting partner and now to mate. He felt Sam begin to relax, to respond, and he slowly let his control over his scent relax, letting the wave of lust and _mine_ creep forward. It would keep the other pack gathered in the square at a distance, but he was also afraid that it would overwhelm Sam with its intensity, so he let it out little by little until it was finally full-strength. 

“Sammy…” he spoke softly to get his attention as the omega seemed to be lost in the haze of the scent. His eyes opened, hazel nearly edged out by dilated pupils, and Dean almost forgot what he was going to say. “You know how this is usually done… Do you…do you want to try it a different way or…” 

He could tell by the look in Sam’s eyes that he knew what he meant. The usual mating position was the same one that the vampires had put him in. There wasn’t any significant ritualistic reason to the position; it was just the easiest one to knot in. So Dean was asking him if he wanted to do it another way; try to bypass that association. 

Sam shook his head. “No. Want you to replace that…” He flushed, his gaze snapping to the crowd below the platform. 

Dean moved his head back to look at him. “Don’t look at them, Sammy. It’s just you and me; they don’t matter, might as well not even be real.” 

The crowd had gone silent, seeming as though it were collectively holding its breath. There was an air of awe about their scents now, as though they were witnessing something sacred. Which, Dean realized, in the old ways of pack they were. He understood now why Bobby seemed so fond of his pack rite memories. If the omega were willing, like his mate had been, Dean was sure that this would be a truly amazing experience. 

He kissed Sam again, more urgently this time, his hands going to the hem of the omega’s shirt, pulling back only to yank it over Sam’s head and then pull off his own before he continued the kiss, his own lust mounting as the bare skin of their chests met. Omegas ran a little warmer, and Sam felt hot to the touch. He pushed forward gently, making Sam walk backwards until they reached the bed and then guided him to lay down on it. He did the best he could to keep his body between Sam and the audience, to shield his brother from sight, but after crawling onto the bed there wasn’t much he could do. 

He undid his belt quickly, popping the button and lowering the zipper on the jeans before pulling them down along with his underwear and kicking them off. He knew instinctively that he had to be naked first, that Sam couldn’t be exposed up on the platform alone, couldn’t take that without being thrown back into the memories of that nightmare. 

Sam had one arm thrown over his eyes, his chest heaving, and Dean could smell a heady mix of lust and fear rolling off of him, which he had expected. What he didn’t expect was the sudden rush of shame that surged off of the omega when Dean finally managed to strip him of his pants and underwear. He moved forward, quickly covering the omega with his body, unable to hold back a hiss of pleasure as his hard cock rubbed against Sam’s stomach. 

“You’re doing good, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice low as he kissed the omega’s chest and up over his collarbone to lick gently at the spot at the base of his neck where Dean was going to sink his teeth later. “You’re doing so good. So proud of you, baby boy. Love you so much.” 

It was so startlingly true that he couldn’t believe today had been his first time saying it; couldn’t believe that it had been some random Alpha in a pool hall who had first brought his attention to it. 

He moved back, tapping Sam’s hip to get his attention and then gently guiding him onto his stomach and to raise onto his knees. Sam let out a shaky breath that sounded as though it ended on a supressed sob, and Dean’s heart nearly broke. He didn’t know how to make it better, how to stop the fear from creeping in. Couldn’t claim Sam without penetrating him, but knew that even if Sam wanted him to, it was scary for him. 

He had an idea but was hesitant to follow through on it; wasn’t sure if it would help or make things worse. It might be too intimate. Sam might find it humiliating with the crowd watching. But it might also help Sam ease into this and—Dean’s mouth watered as he took in the sight of Sam’s firm ass raised for him—yeah, he really wanted to do it, himself. 

He leaned forward and licked along the seam where Sam’s cheeks met in a long, gentle stripe. He heard the choked sound of surprise that escaped Sam and half a beat later he smelled the omega’s piqued interest. He smiled against the right cheek and bit down lightly, causing Sam’s back to arch before he pulled back and placed his hands on the firm globes, thumbs running between them to help him gently pull them apart and expose the puckered opening between them to him—only to him, despite the large audience. No slick had made its way out yet, but judging by Sam’s increasingly growing scent, it was only a matter of time. 

Without hesitation Dean leaned in and ran his tongue around the tight ring of muscle, lapping and pressing in lightly before sealing his lips around it and sucking lightly. 

It took Sam by surprise and he arched his back, pressing against Dean’s mouth, seeming to forget for a moment that they were being watched as he cried out. Dean smiled as well as he could. That was what he wanted. He lapped at the hole as the first trickle of slick appeared, groaning at the taste as he finally pushed his tongue inside, feeling Sam’s inner muscles flutter around it as the omega let out a keening moan. 

After a minute Dean drew back, watching as a surge of slick appeared, chasing his tongue. He brought his hand up, gathering the glob of slick on his fingers and looked at the shine of it in the sun in awe. The baser part of his mind told him to hold it up, to show the crowd what he was doing to the omega— _his omega_ —but he knew that Sam was self-conscious about his slick, and he couldn’t humiliate him by showing it off. He tamped down the instinct, instead running the slick-covered fingers over the tight hole before dipping one in gently, testing the give. He felt Sam tense and then relax as he slid the finger in completely, his pulse picking up as he saw the digit disappear into the tight, wet heat. 

“So fucking perfect, baby boy,” he muttered appreciatively. “So nice and slick for me; so fucking good.” 

He worked hard not to rush the preparation, not to cave to the baser instinct that was screaming at him to push inside of Sam and take him hard, claim him, knot him and pump him full of his seed. By the time he had three fingers in Sam, curling and twisting, he was almost at the end of his rope. 

“Ready, baby boy?” he asked, wincing at a painful throb from his dick. There was a moment of hesitation and then he saw movement as his brother nodded, forehead still pressed against his forearms. 

Dean lined himself up, notching the head of his cock against the fluttering ring of muscles before leaning forward to cover Sam’s body with his own. “Thank you, baby boy.” It was said in a hushed whisper, and Dean didn’t know exactly what he was thanking the omega for—for picking him, for accepting him, for trusting him, for giving himself to him—didn’t know which one, probably all of them. But he meant it. He pressed a kiss between Sam’s shoulder blades as he slowly pushed into his slick passage, closing his eyes as the tight wet heat enveloped him. He paused to let both of them adjust to the sensation, a groan escaping his lips. 

He started to thrust slowly, his mind stuttering and blanking at the waves of pleasure. “You feel so good, Sammy. So perfect,” he said, his voice low, words for Sammy’s ears only. The omega responded by pushing his hips back, metting Dean thrust for thrust, and it wasn’t long before the Alpha felt his knot start to swell. 

“Hang on, baby boy.” He grasped Sam’s hips tight and gave one hard thrust, pushing the knot inside and then grinding deep, drawing a cry from the omega as he felt him deeper than before, the growing knot pressing hard against his prostate, making his squirm and moan beneath him. 

Dean tried, experimentally, to pull out, and a surge of pride rushed through him when the knot caught on Sam’s rim, too swollen now to be removed. The knowledge pushed him hard towards climax, and he growled, his hand closing under the omega’s jaw to pull him back, baring his neck and in one swift motion sinking his teeth into the soft skin between neck and shoulder. 

Three things happened almost all at once: warmth flooded Dean’s mouth as he broke through skin and a slight layer of tissue, the sweet metallic taste of Sammy’s blood coating his tongue; his little brother came hard, his cock painting the bed below them with his release as he cried out Dean’s name on a breathy moan; and the spasming of Sam’s walls around his knotted cock finally pushed Dean over the edge as he flooded Sam’s channel, long streams of seed shooting deep inside of him, filling him up and marking him inside as Dean’s. 

The world around them disappeared as they rode out the pleasure until they were both spent, and then Dean carefully moved them to their sides, his body between Sam and the crowd. He could hear them moving, the growing swell of noise as they swiftly vacated the square. He knew that Bobby had mentioned that the town he had grown up in had given the newly-mated couple privacy while they were tied, and Dean was relieved that this town seemed to do the same. 

When the square was silent again, the scent of others clearing from the air in the afternoon breeze, leaving only the intertwined scent of Dean and Sam, Alpha and omega, Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and whispered in his ear how much he loved him, thanked him again, told him how good he had done, how proud he was of him, how happy he was that Sam was his forever. 

** ~~~ **

They pulled up to the house as the sun was starting to set, and Dean could see the anxiety on Sam’s face. 

“What if they’re not happy about this?” the omega asked. 

Dean snorted out a laugh. “Doesn’t matter. You’re mine forever.” 

“What if they don’t want us in the pack anymore? Especially me. I haven’t exactly been the easiest person to live with.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean shrugged, smirking at his brother. “You’re mine forever.” 

“Dean…” Sam rolled his eyes, clearly wishing that the Alpha would be serious. 

“Sammy, exactly what part of _forever_ don’t you understand here?” 

Sam sighed and got out of the car, making his way to the house as Dean followed close behind. 

He could tell as soon as they made it inside that the rest of the pack knew. Whether Dean had told them or they could smell it, or a combination of both, Sam didn’t know. But one look at their faces made it obvious that they knew. 

Cas smiled and gave them this little nod. Garth made a crude joke, his eyes twinkling in genuine affection. Bobby just muttered something about “bout damn time” and “idjits”. 

And John; John crossed the room with a smile on his face and gathered his youngest son in his arms in a tight embrace. “Glad you finally found your other half, son.” 

And Sam tried not to cry as he hugged his dad back. 

Something had shifted again, like it always did, in their strange pack’s dynamic. But it felt sturdier, more in balance in a way, Sam thought as Dean held him through the night. 

  
**The End.**   
_I hope you enjoyed it. :)_   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a prompt you'd like to submit? Click **[here](http://girlgotagun.livejournal.com/8537.html)** and leave a comment, and I'll see what I can do!


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